


Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas

by mysticanni



Series: Heart of Glass [5]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Christmas Party, Fairy Lights, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Past Rape/Non-con, Tinsel, Vomiting, cocktails
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:03:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21976288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysticanni/pseuds/mysticanni
Summary: Crystal and Roger are about to move into a new house.Freddie and Roger think the empty house is perfect to host the band's Christmas party.Crystal isn't so sure.
Relationships: Chris "Crystal" Taylor/Roger Taylor
Series: Heart of Glass [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1485515
Comments: 2
Kudos: 29





	Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> As usual this fits no real-life timelines or events.

The house was warm, which was quite a surprise. At some point it had evidently organically grown a gas central heating system. Every room seemed to have an abundance of fairy lights and lava lamps which suggested that either the faulty wiring had been fixed or the house was liable to burst into flames at any moment. 

Crystal fingered a strand of multi-coloured lights in the kitchen and sipped his beer. ‘Pretty, isn’t it?’ a voice said, startling him. He turned to see the band’s sound engineer, Trip, selecting a drink from the large table that was pretty much the only furniture in the kitchen, or, indeed, the house. 

Crystal nodded in agreement: it was pretty, possibly a fire risk, but pretty. ‘Me and the boys thought we’d never get the electrics fixed in time,’ Trip continued, solving one mystery for Crystal, ‘they were a right mess. Your Roger thought he’d have to cancel the party.’

Crystal had been expecting his Roger to miserably announce that he had been forced to cancel the party for days now. Crystal had been looking forward to consoling Roger. He would not have been smug about it, he thought. He would not have said anything along the lines of, ‘I told you that having a party in a practically derelict house was unrealistic.’ At least he was fairly sure he would not have been smug.

‘Good idea to have a party before you’ve moved in,’ Trip noted approvingly, ‘before there’s anything to wreck.’ 

That had been Roger’s (and Freddie’s) argument in favour of the party. Crystal gulped some beer. ‘Did he pay you properly?’ he asked Trip.

‘Yeah,’ Trip laughed, ‘and he had to pay me brother over the odds to get him to sort your heating out in time. He was on another job, you see, but your Rog made him an offer he couldn’t refuse.’

And that explained the heating.

Crystal began to weave his way out of the kitchen. There seemed to be people everywhere. He wanted to find his Roger and find out exactly how much this had cost.

Freddie was in the hall greeting people. Unlike Crystal, Freddie appeared to know everyone streaming into Crystal’s house. ‘Welcome, darlings! How lovely to see you! Coats and wraps in here...’

One of the reception rooms had been kitted out with assorted coat and hat stands and some garment rails of the type shops used. Crystal had no idea where they had come from and hoped they would magically vanish again once the party was over with absolutely no effort required on his part. 

He felt a surge of irritation as Brian wandered into the hall and also enthusiastically started to greet guests. ‘How nice to see you Tim, it’s been too long. Hi Crystal; Tim, this is Crystal, he’s Roger’s...’

...lover...

...husband...

‘...drum tech. It’s his house.’ 

Yes, thought Crystal grimly, it was his house: in his name to keep Roger as hidden and private as possible. Crystal’s house but mainly paid for by Roger. Crystal’s house had become the venue for the Queen Christmas party apparently.

‘Hello,’ he muttered to the man Brian was introducing. (This is Tim Staffell, he was in Smile.’) Crystal was not sure what to say. He was nowhere near drunk enough for this. Fortunately, Brian was now introducing Tim to someone else. 

Crystal moved towards the front room. It was mobbed. Fairy lights were draped across the fireplace and the windows. The Beatles were playing although Crystal could not see the record player. He could not see Roger’s distinctive mop of blond hair.

Back in the hall, Crystal could see that a queue was already forming for the downstairs lavatory, where tinsel had been draped gaudily around the doorframe. Roger was not in the queue or the hall. Crystal could not see him in what they thought was destined to become the dining room either, when he peered round the door. He could see people lounging on large floor cushions and bean-bags, listening to The Rolling Stones. This room had a couple of lava lamps and fairy lights around the fireplace. Crystal supposed that at least Roger had not lit fires in any of the fireplaces.

He ventured upstairs, his hand resting lightly on the banister, which had tinsel wound around it. Their London townhouse had been cheap due to the repairs needed otherwise they would not have been able to afford this area or this size of house: it had three floors, four if you counted the basement, and a small garden at the rear. 

Roger was not amongst the shrieking women on the landing. He was not playing cards in the first room Crystal looked into. There were more lava lamps in here (Crystal wondered if they now possessed every lava lamp in London; perhaps some of them had been borrowed; hopefully some of them had been borrowed) and there were fairy lights draped across the curtain-rail but no sign of Roger.

The next room he tried had fairy lights criss-crossing the not inconsiderable expanse of ceiling. Tinsel had been wrapped around the numerous extension leads that had apparently made this possible and Crystal wished he had read all of the clauses in the insurance contract, particularly the ones relating to fire. He wondered who had helped Roger decorate the house. He also wondered if he should have taken more of an interest himself, instead of huffily refusing to have anything to do with the party. (‘Fine, Roger, if you want to attempt to make the house, which needs months worth of work, fit to hold a party in a few weeks then you go right ahead and try but I am having nothing to do with it.’)

The fairy lights seemed to be the only source of light in this room, which was also crowded. People were swaying gently in each other’s arms as Jimi Hendrix played. The fairy lights twinkled on Roger’s bright hair as he sat on the broad window-sill, cigarette in one hand and glass in the other, chatting to people Crystal didn’t recognise. 

Crystal had halted in the doorway and a drunken man stumbled against him on his way in, causing Crystal’s beer to slop onto the bare floorboards. ‘Watch it!’ Crystal growled.

‘Sorry, man, sorry,’ the drunken man, another stranger, made a ‘calm down’ gesture with his hands, ‘chill out, man, relax.’ 

Crystal snorted, feeling crosser than ever. He realised he could not possibly go over to Roger otherwise he would say something he would regret. He swung around and stormed off.

*

Roger’s face fell. He had thought Crystal had seen him. Despite the haze from people’s cigarettes, the dim light and Roger’s poor eyesight, he was certain that had been Crystal in the doorway. He would know Crystal anywhere.

He had hoped Crystal would come over for a chat. Roger knew it was not considered good party etiquette to spend most of your time with your spouse but the only advantage of having to keep their relationship a secret was that very few people here knew that Crystal was, effectively, Roger’s husband.

And Crystal was a lot more fun than most of the people here. Roger had not had any food but had gulped down several sickly lurid yellow ‘snowballs’ which had left him feeling a bit queasy. He was currently listening politely to a record company executive telling him about his holiday to Mustique staying in Lord Someone or other’s villa. Roger did his best to look suitably impressed. He wondered if Crystal would like a trip somewhere hot and sunny.

Crystal had looked upset. He had not wanted a party, Roger knew. Roger wondered if he had pushed too hard: Crystal had given in when Roger promised to do all the preparation and carry out all the work required himself. (‘All you need to do is turn up and be your usual fabulous self, Crys!’ Roger had told Crystal brightly.)

Roger wondered if it would have been wiser to abandon the whole idea. It was not, in all honesty, the party Roger had anticipated. He had been thinking of having a few close friends round: people who knew about his relationship with Crystal.

Roger had expected to be able to hold, caress, kiss, Crystal. 

Then Freddie had become involved and the whole thing had snowballed dramatically. Freddie had decided that the party would be a Queen extravaganza. The only good news was that Freddie had successfully persuaded Deaky to provide band money to help pay for the heating system and the re-wiring. Crystal would surely be pleased about that, wouldn’t he?

*

There was a rope across the stairs leading up to the third floor with a ‘private, keep out’ sign hanging from it. Crystal un-hooked it and replaced it behind him. The stairs creaked as he headed up them. 

It felt cold and as he reached the top of the stairs he realised why: Brian had opened the window on the landing and was leaning out, craning his neck to see the night sky. Crystal suspected the night sky in London was probably a blanket of smog. He cleared his throat, startling Brian, who hit his head on the window frame as he ducked back inside.

‘Hey,’ Crystal said, flatly.

‘Hey,’ Brian smiled, ‘there’s supposed to be a meteor shower but I doubt we’ll be able to see anything.’

Crystal nodded. He moved to the door he and Roger had earmarked as the master bedroom. He was both annoyed (denied refuge) and slightly amused (very sensible of Roger but kind of pointless in an empty house) to find it locked.

Brian rubbed his head. He closed the window. ‘I suppose I should socialise,’ he said unenthusiastically. 

Crystal sighed. ‘I suppose I should too.’

Neither of them moved. 

‘Do you know all these people?’ Crystal wondered.

‘A lot of them are record company executives,’ Brian said, ‘some of them are old friends.’

Crystal nodded wearily. ‘Well, how about we go ‘n’ get drinks then mingle,’ he suggested. 

*

Freddie had lost his shirt since Roger had seen him last. Roger wrapped some gold and purple tinsel around Freddie. ‘You’ll catch your death,’ he laughed. He fashioned a ring of gold tinsel and placed it on Freddie’s head. ‘There: now you have a halo,’ Roger giggled. 

‘Why, thank you darling! Allow me to make one for you...’

Once Roger also had a circle of tinsel on his head Freddie linked their arms and led him towards the stairs. ‘A record executive’s wife was asking where you were hiding, dear,’ Freddie told him, ‘come and do your duty charming the suits.’ 

Roger obediently allowed himself to be swept along by Freddie. He felt a bit nauseous. ‘Have you seen Crystal?’ he asked. 

‘He was in the hall earlier,’ Freddie said, ‘Brian introduced him to Tim. I haven’t seen him since then.’

‘I think he might be cross with me,’ Roger confessed. 

‘Rubbish, dear! Who could possibly be cross with you? You’re a sparkly little Christmas angel!’ Freddie pulled Roger into the front room, ‘Belinda, darling, look who I’ve found!’

Belinda seized Roger in a bone-crushing hug which startled him. ‘You poor little love,’ she cooed, ‘what happened to you was simply disgusting and the press are monsters! You’re alright now, though, aren’t you?’

Roger reflected that although it had now been over a year since he had been attacked he still didn’t like people grabbing him unexpectedly as she had just done. He still had nightmares. He still took more and longer showers than normal people; he still didn’t feel clean. ‘Yes, I’m fine,’ he replied as brightly as he could manage. ‘Thank you so much for asking.’

He was glad when she released him. Her strong perfume had made him feel decidedly sick. He moved immediately to Freddie’s side, reassured when he felt Freddie’s hand on his back. He wondered where Crystal was.

*

The kitchen held food and alcohol. Crystal had a couple of sausage rolls. Phoebe was there, wearing a Santa hat and making sure everyone had food and a drink. He hugged Crystal. ‘There you are, lovely, thank you for allowing us to invade your fabulous home.’

‘Hey, Phoebs, you don’t have to serve people, y’know,’ Crystal ruffled Phoebe’s hair. 

‘This is my natural habitat, Crystal,’ Phoebe laughed. 

Crystal wondered if he could just stay here. Brian had wandered off, glass in hand.

‘Are you okay?’ Phoebe asked.

Crystal shrugged. ‘I’m just feeling a bit overwhelmed, I think. I didn’t really want a party; certainly not one like this.’ 

Phoebe patted his shoulder. ‘Stay here with me out of the madness,’ he suggested. ‘You’ll see everyone but only for as long as it takes for them to get food and a drink. It might make it more bearable.’

‘Thanks,’ Crystal nodded, ‘I might do that for a bit.’ He wondered how long it would take for Roger to need another drink. Of course Roger might just get someone to fetch him a drink.

‘I do think it was crafty of Roger to get the band to pay for some of the repairs to the house,’ Phoebe noted, ‘although Freddie said Roger wasn’t entirely happy about the party becoming a band ‘do’ so I suppose he was just making the best of it.’ 

Crystal laughed, suddenly feeling much better. ‘Yeah,’ he grinned, ‘Roger’s a crafty little imp.’

*

It was Deaky who arrived in the kitchen, looking worried. ‘Crys, Roger is looking a bit panicky. Some insensitive bastard asked him how it felt to be raped.’

*

Freddie had successfully extracted Roger from the group they’d been in and taken him up to the third floor. When Crystal, Deaky and Phoebe arrived Roger was fumblingly trying to insert a key into the locked door. Roger’s breath was coming in ragged little gasps.

‘Would you like me to do that, sweetheart?’ Crystal offered.

Roger nodded, almost throwing the key at Crystal who unlocked the door and groped for the light switch. The bare bulb hanging from the ceiling rose illuminated a mattress on the floor with sheets and blankets on it. There were fairy lights in here, too, and a box created a little table with a jug of water and two glasses resting on it.

Roger had bolted towards the large cupboard they had contemplated one day turning into an en suite bathroom if it didn’t cost too much to do so and Crystal heard him vomit. He frowned, barely aware of Freddie moving the others away. ‘We’ll leave Roger in your capable hands, dear.’ 

‘Rog?’ To Crystal’s astonishment, the cupboard now boasted an en suite bathroom. Roger was puking into the toilet bowl. Crystal knelt next to him and gently rubbed his back.

‘Surprise,’ Roger croaked. 

‘I’ll just get some water,’ Crystal returned to the bedroom and filled one of the glasses with water from the jug. As he turned to go back to Roger he noted that there were now two doors to the cupboard space: one to the newly created bathroom and one leading to a walk-in wardrobe, as Crystal discovered when he opened it.

He returned to Roger and held the glass to his lips. ‘I assume the band didn’t contribute to this?’ 

Roger managed a small smile. ‘Ratty’s cousin’s brother-in-law is a plumber. He did it for a reduced rate.’

Crystal held the glass to Roger’s lips again. ‘You’re a thrifty little soul, aren’t you?’

‘One of us has to be,’ Roger said primly. 

Crystal grinned. ‘I don’t usually associate you being sick with a panic attack?’ he told Roger.

Roger looked embarrassed. ‘I think I’ve had a teensy bit too much to drink,’ he confessed, ‘too many snowballs on an empty stomach.’

‘But you were having a panic attack?’ Crystal frowned. 

‘I started to get a bit anxious,’ Roger explained, ‘so I tapped Freddie’s wrist twice: that’s our signal for me needing to leave before I embarrass myself.’

‘You have a secret code?’ Crystal was both fascinated and slightly jealous.

Roger looked amused. ‘I need a code with them. You would know by looking at me that I was struggling.’

Crystal supposed, smugly, that this was true. He leaned in to kiss Roger who looked appalled and placed his hand firmly over Crystal’s mouth.

‘Crystal, I’ve literally just been sick! I’m disgusting!’ Roger gasped. ‘I need to brush my teeth!’

Roger vanished into the bedroom and began rummaging in an overnight bag. He cast aside some women’s lingerie before producing a toothbrush and toothpaste.

Crystal picked up a pair of lacy knickers. ‘What was your plan, li’l’ angel?’ he asked, amused.

‘To seduce you,’ Roger mumbled, ‘and for us to spend our first night here and give you a treat for putting up with the party and for putting up with me.’ He sighed. ‘And then I threw-up and now you’re looking after me again.’

‘The night is young,’ Crystal noted.

Roger grinned. ‘I’ll just brush my teeth...’

*

Crystal put his arm around Roger’s waist as he locked the bedroom door. He offered Roger the key but Roger shook his head. Crystal pocketed the key. ‘Okay then Mr. Taylor, are you ready to party?’ 

Roger nodded. He did not look very sure. Crystal kissed him. ‘I love you.’ 

*

It was, Crystal thought, like watching Christmas lights being turned on. Roger began to sparkle once they entered a crowded room. He greeted people: how lovely to see you; it’s been ages; how are you; this is Crystal, he looks after me: keeps me out of trouble; how’s your wife; how’s your husband; how is darling so and so; are they here; do tell me what you’ve been up to...

Roger listened. He showed an interest: so glad your new job is going well; how old is the baby now; you look amazing; have you met Crystal, he’s my minder...

Crystal thought Roger was effervescent, bubbly, warm and radiating light and love. Crystal gazed adoringly at him.

People began to drift away around one in the morning. By two it was the band and Miami and the main crew members left. John had found an acoustic guitar and was playing Christmas songs, sitting on a cushion under the Christmas tree in the front room.

Crystal was sprawled on a bean-bag in the corner. Freddie began to sing ‘Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas’ and Roger and Brian joined him in beautiful harmony. Crystal thought how lucky he was.

*

Roger wondered how much Crystal had drunk: he looked very misty-eyed. Roger smiled. He had Crystal; the band; this amazing house. He was so lucky.

*

The band, Miami and Ratty were the last to leave. Roger shivered on the doorstep, making sure everyone was safely in a taxi and waving them goodbye.

Crystal slid his arm around Roger’s waist, pulling him gently back inside and closing the door. He swirled Roger into an unsteady dance around the hall, singing, ‘Have yourself a merry little Christmas, Roggie, let your heart be light...’

Roger laughed. ‘You’re drunk!’

‘From now on your troubles will be out of sight,’ Crystal continued, grinning at him.

Roger silenced him with a kiss. ‘I should’ve put up much more mistletoe,’ he said regretfully, a moment later. ‘Not for the party but for us.’ He kissed Crystal again. ‘Come and help me turn off all the fairy lights and then we can go to bed.’

Crystal laughed. ‘Now, there’s an offer I can’t refuse!’

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! :)


End file.
